Bear Witness
by mossley
Summary: Completed. And now for the rest of the story… Unbound Improv Challenge entry – the first and last lines are provided, with 1,000 words to fill in the rest.
1. Ch 1

**Bear Witness****  
****Summary: **Sitting in a seedy motel, Grissom regrets the circumstances that led to the current situation.   
**A/N:** Entry to this week's Unbound Improv Challenge. The first and last lines are given, and there's a 1,000-word limit that I blew. Thanks to Burked and Ann for beta services, but I keep all mistakes for myself.  
**Rating:**PG-13   
**Disclaimer:** If I had any rights to CSI, I would have them taken away for this story.

* * *

"Perhaps it was a mistake."

Grissom spoke softly, but sorrow tinged his voice. He was unwilling to look at his sole companion sitting beside him on the end of the bed, so he focused on his bare feet. A hand came up absentmindedly to wipe the lingering moisture from his brow.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he added.

Still receiving no response, Grissom slowly turned his head to the side. Sara's mouth was partially open in shock, and her attention was focused on a side wall. He followed her gaze, wincing at what he saw. That was one mural he had missed earlier.

"You mean Ecklie didn't plan this?"

Grissom didn't react to the sarcasm in her voice; he didn't blame her. For a brief minute, he actually considered their current predicament could be something Ecklie devised. Giving his head a shake, he dismissed the idea; not even Conrad was that evil.

It had been a simple enough 'request'. Grissom was to give a demonstration to the state police on how not to destroy evidence at a crime scene. Ecklie told him to take an assistant from dayshift, but he'd insisted on Sara.

Since it was so far from the city, they'd have the night off. They'd left straight from the lab after shift, and by the time they were finished in the late afternoon, the rain was coming in a heavy downpour.

When traffic crawled to a stop, Grissom dashed through the torrential rain to talk to the state police trooper blocking the mountain highway. He was thoroughly drenched by the time he learned the cloudburst caused a rockslide, closing down the road until it could be cleared away.

It was late in the day, and both of them were tired. It would be hours before the road was cleared, and it would take at least as long to wind their way through the back roads on an alternate route. Finding what amounted to an overgrown truck stop, they made a beeline for the only motel in the area.

Unfortunately, every other driver on the road had the same idea.

They asked for separate rooms, but it was Sara who understood the clerk's calculating look as he surveyed the crowd behind them. The motel charged based on the number of occupants. Two rooms with one guest each meant lost money.

"Do you have anything with two beds?" she'd asked quickly.

While some of the newer hotels were epitomes of good taste, the truth was Las Vegas was still the neon nexus of gaudy. But on a one-to-one basis, this motel could out-tacky anything Vegas had to offer. Their first clue as to what awaited them was the name of their room: Ursula's Den.

Grissom presumed Ursula was the contently-grinning, pink-bowed teddy bear adorning nearly every flat surface in the room. And whose coquettish eyes followed him no matter where he went. The murals were exceptionally well-painted, he had to admit, even if the subject matter was disturbing.

Ursula's smile seemed to be due to the carnal attentions from her multiple ursine companions. Everywhere in the room, depictions of sexually active child-like teddy bears greeted them. Grissom doubted some of the configurations were anatomically possible even if the teddy bears had been anatomically correct.

"Wake me when this nightmare is over," she muttered.

Sara let out a mini-growl and started to collapse on the bed. Her hands paused just above the surface of the comforter, and he saw her face scrunch in distaste. It didn't take a CSI to imagine what an ALS would show there. With a sigh, she opened her eyes and scowled.

"There's a mirror on the ceiling."

"At least it doesn't have a perverted teddy bear on it," Grissom sighed.

"Want to bet?"

Sara stalked to the bathroom. Letting out a groan, Grissom stood slowly. Sopping wet clothing stuck to his body, and his jeans sloshed uncomfortably as he surveyed their surroundings. The bed she vacated was narrow and had a noticeable dip in the center.

He turned to the other piece of furniture. It was a bed in the same sense that a little yapping dog is a wolf at heart. It was flat and had padding. It was all the extras that confused him.

Grissom had been exposed to a great deal on the job, he was well-read, and he had gone to college during the sexual revolution. He knew a lot, even if it wasn't first-hand knowledge. But the variety of straps, restraints and other … things… had him at a loss.

"You can take the bed," Sara said, moving beside him as she tried to towel-dry her hair. "I don't need to sleep."

"We're both adults," he sighed. "We can share the bed."

"Oh, you'll sleep with me, but you won't have dinner with me."

Sara had a grin when she spoke, but Grissom detected the hurt underneath. The truth was his insistence on bringing Sara hadn't been strictly professional. Some sort of ingrained self-preservation mode advised him that mentioning that while they were stuck in a room full of furry fornicating teddy bears wouldn't be a smart move.

His head tilted to the side as he examined a new mural. At first, he thought it was a bruin bunny hop, but it appeared Ursula had no problem with alternative lifestyles.

"Tell you what. I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight," Grissom said honestly. He had no doubts that his dreams would consist of Lady Heather presiding over a group of infantile furries.

Then he sneezed.

"You need to get out of those wet clothes."

"You can't catch a cold from being wet," Grissom replied shortly, frowning as she felt his forehead. He hated for anyone to fuss over him.

"No, but being cold can lower your resistance."

"I'm fine," he said, ignoring the eye roll directed at him when he sneezed again.

"For once, just don't argue with me," she said impatiently. Sara smiled at his hurt expression. "Look, there're robes in the bathroom. I'll go see if there are any coveralls in the Denali."

Grissom headed to the bathroom. He stripped his clothes off, trying to ignore Ursula's salacious grin from the shower curtain. What kind of sick mind would think something like this up? Standing in just his boxers, he noted they were also soaked. With a resigned air, he hung them with his other clothes to dry.

Taking a robe from the back of the door, he hesitated. Not only was it one of the ugliest pieces of polyester he'd ever seen, it was short. Cautiously, Grissom slipped it on, one hand tugging at the hem. It reached the top of his thighs, barely covering everything that needed to be covered – if he stood straight.

Thoughts of making it to the relative safety of the bed before Sara returned faded when he opened the door to find her heading his way.

"No luck on the cover…"

Grissom frowned when she stopped talking, dropping her head after a minute. The unsuccessfully muffled chortles didn't amuse him. He headed to the bed with as much dignity as was possible under the circumstances. Luckily, Sara headed to the bathroom, and he hoped to crawl into bed without exposing himself.

He settled onto bed and was about to pull up the covers when he noticed the mirror over the bed. Not only did it show Ursula, it showed him – all of him.

"This robe is see-through!" Grissom half-screamed in horror. He turned his head towards the openly laughing Sara as she bolted to the bathroom. The door slammed.


	2. Ch 2

**Bear Witness  
****Summary:** Grissom's feeling a bit exposed.  
**A/N:** I don't know who is worse – me for thinking of this idea, or y'all for wanting more of it! Not only a second chapter, but this is also a response to this week's Unbound Improv Challenge. First and last lines are provided, with 1,000 words to finish the story. Thanks to Burked and Ann for beta-ing this.  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Disclaimer**: After reading this story, do you think anyone would trust me with the rights to CSI?

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"You shouldn't have … you _really_ shouldn't have."

Sara repeated the phrase as she tried to rein in her laughter. Leaning over the sink, she gripped the sides of the porcelain tightly. It was as much for support as safety – unlike the rest of the room, the inside of the sink lacked any of Ursula's romps. This motel from hell had her off-balance, and the recent events really set her off.

Grissom's peep show had to have been embarrassing for him, but it had been entertaining from her end. Besides, she deserved a laugh after today.

It wasn't so much the hideous weather, or the tedious demonstrations to troopers who only half-paid attention. It was Grissom. He had dragged her to the expo without so much as asking if she had other plans for the day. Okay, the odds that she had other plans were pretty close to nil, but he could have at least asked.

Then there was the confusing behavior. On the long drive, Grissom had actually been talkative. Passing an exit, he told her somewhat nervously about a restaurant in that town that was very good. He'd asked her about things besides work or her family problems. During their demonstrations, he'd been nice to her. He'd even smiled openly at her. What was going on with that?

Oh, dear.

Sara looked up from the sink, her laughter completely gone. The implications sank in slowly as she blinked. She didn't want to believe that Grissom had suddenly decided to make an overture. Not that it mattered; she'd blown it. Nothing in the universe turned a guy off faster than laughing at him – especially when he was nude.

"Damn."

Muttering under her breath about men, mixed signals and anthropomorphized motel murals, Sara shimmied out of her wet jeans and sweater. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped it around herself securely before opening the bathroom door.

Grissom was propped up in the middle of the bed, with the see-through robe tossed to the footboard. He rested against the pillows and had the sheets pulled up partway up his chest. For all of his nonchalant attitude, Sara could tell it was an act. He was upset but trying to pretend like nothing had happened.

She grabbed a box of tissues from the dresser as she went to the bed. Uncertainty made her hesitate. What had he been up to? And was she even interested? It was too weird – and being stuck in a sexual getaway really wasn't helping. Taking a seat by his side, she handed the tissues to him.

Tension filled the room, and Sara flushed dramatically when she realized it wasn't entirely uncomfortable. She was with Grissom – now totally nude – in a motel. This was insane. If nothing else, Grissom was sick. She gave her head a quick shake and with a tentative smile, she reached over to touch his forehead. That prompted him to shrug his head away.

"So, you're one of those," she said, her light manner only partially covering her concern. He had a bit of a fever, and his eyes were getting watery. A full-blown cold was coming on.

"One of what?" Grissom sniffed irritably.

"Guys that try to act all tough when they're sick. As opposed to the ones that want to be nursed for every little scratch."

When he glowered and blushed, Sara realized "nursed" probably had been the wrong term to use in their current surroundings.

"I'm not sick."

"You have a fever," she replied evenly. With an apologetic head bob, she added, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh earlier."

Grissom frowned as he waved her hand away from his head. He looked away, but she could see the pain in his expression.

"It really wasn't that bad," Sara said.

He snorted in reply, and ran his eyes over her. The towel wrapped easily around her, only exposing a bit of her legs. Her tank top, while slightly damp, remained annoyingly opaque.

"I notice you didn't bother wearing the other robe."

"I'm not dumb," she answered, wincing at the way that had come out. "Besides, those sheets aren't that heavy. How embarrassed would you have been if I had worn the robe?"

Both of them blushed at her innuendo, and Sara jumped off the bed. Mentally, she scolded herself for the comment. Where had that come from? It had to be the room – all the murals had to be having a subliminal effect. And she had to admit she'd liked what she had seen earlier.

"How about something to drink?" she stammered abruptly, opening the room's mini fridge.

"What?" Grissom asked when she slammed the door quickly.

"Don't ask."

"I think I already did."

"Honey. Syrup. Whipped cream."

"Huh?"

Sara pointed to a mural on the wall beside the bed. Grissom blushed deeply. Ursula smiled as her companions demonstrated how the food items were intended to be consumed.

She stared at the floor as she walked back towards the bed. Embarrassment didn't trigger the response; it was the one place in the room free from sexually explicit teddy bears. Taking a seat on the side of the bed, Sara noted what looked like a radio on the nightstand.

"Music?"

"Why not," Grissom growled.

Sara turned the knob, noting it was an Elvis Presley song. The lyrics registered next: "Baby let me be, your lovin' teddy bear."

She slammed the switch off quickly, rolling her eyes at the accusing glare Grissom directed at her. He turned away, but not before she saw his pained look. She really had hurt his feelings. After a moment's consideration, Sara decided to use his method of comfort. Her hand brushed over his lightly before she slid her fingers between his. Grissom's eyes opened widely, and he stared at their joined hands.

"I said I was sorry. I mean it. I was laughing at this situation. Not at you."

Grissom's expression vacillated between doubt and hope, with more than a trace of panic tossed in. Flashing him a grin, Sara squeezed his hand before heading to her purse. She fished out her wallet and walked towards the door. "I saw some vending machines at the end of the hallway. I'll see if I can find us something to drink."

Sara paused at the doorway. Grissom was adorable looking. Deciding he needed both some reassurance and a tweak, she called his name. When he looked at her, she smiled wickedly.

"And speaking as a healthy female, trust me – you have no reason to be embarrassed."

With a wink, she was gone.


	3. Ch 3

**Bear Witness  
Summary: **It's still the same story.   
**A/N: **Once again, I used this week's Unbound Improv Challenge for this chapter. First and last lines are provided, with 1,000 words to fill in the rest.  
**Rating: **PG-13   
**Disclaimer: **I ain't gonna write one! I dare CBS to complain. Come on! I double-dog dare you.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Warrick raised his hands, getting out of the line of fire. "Hey, it's not my fault. Don't shoot the messenger."

"What do you mean Grissom's not in his office?" Catherine asked in annoyance as she paced around their dead body. "That expo was over hours ago. He should be back by now."

"He does have the night off."

"Oh, please! This is Grissom. Since when has he ever taken a night off when there're bugs involved? And here comes Ecklie. Great."

Warrick shrugged, and he calmly explained to the assistant lab director that no one had heard from Grissom all day.

"I've already paged him three times," Catherine added.

"Oh, really? I'll handle this."

Catherine's irritation faded when Ecklie smiled evilly before disappearing back into his car. She looked to Warrick in confusion. "What was that all about?"

"He probably thinks Griss and Sara are up to something."

"Sara went with Gil? And they're not back yet? Oh, man. I am so out of the loop since we split shifts," she muttered softly before heading back to work.

For his part, Ecklie resisted the urge to rub his hands together in triumph. He'd finally gotten them. Grissom had disrupted two shifts by insisting on taking Sidle with him to the demonstration. He could claim that his motivations were purely professional, and that she was the best CSI he had, but any fool could see he had something for her.

Despite the departmental policies on fraternization, Ecklie knew nothing would come of their 'relationship' as long as it didn't interfere with the job. Even Grissom's refusal to answer his pages tonight wouldn't be held against him. But that didn't mean Ecklie couldn't enjoy making them squirm. He was nearly chuckling by the time he dialed the phone.

"Sidle."

"Well, hello, Sara. This is a surprise."

In the motel's bathroom, Sara paused. Ecklie's tone had been more than amused. A sense of horror crept over her as she turned slowly. Her cell phone was still sitting on the vanity. Closing her eyes, she sank onto the side of the tub.

"What can I do for you?" she asked weakly.

"For starters, you can tell me why you're answering Grissom's phone."

"He's asleep."

"Oh, really?"

Sara groaned silently, and slapped her palm against her forehead. That had not been the right thing to say. She was making things worse.

She'd finally managed to get Grissom to drink the sodas she bought, but not without more embarrassment. She'd sat by his side, at what she thought was a discreet distance, but the bed defied the normal rules of gravity. No matter where you sat on it, you eventually were drawn into the center. Before she knew it, her hip was pressed against Grissom's. That wasn't all of it – her fingers found themselves curling around the hairs at the back of his neck.

His eyes had frantically darted between her hip and her hand. Blushing, Sara had climbed up the mattress and out of the bed, and Grissom had curled into an adorable ball of embarrassment. He probably fell asleep to escape any more incidents. At least under the covers, he wasn't visually assaulted by the carnally rapacious teddy bears.

For her part, Sara'd sought refuge in the bathroom. She hadn't planned on caressing him. It just happened. And Grissom hadn't really objected. He'd been uncomfortable, but that seemed to be due to their location, not her actions. Something was going on between them, and she couldn't isolate exactly what it was.

For distraction, she'd shifted their drying clothes around on the shower rod and towel racks. The heavy jeans were still soggy, but she noted Grissom's underwear was merely damp. She'd thought he'd be more comfortable if he could have something to wear, and she'd been in the process of towel-drying his boxers when the phone rang. It should have been a simple task, but after having seen what went inside of them, she found herself oddly flustered as she patted the cotton material.

"Grissom's sick," Sara stated, deciding to set the record straight. Besides, Ecklie had no idea that they were stuck in a teddy bear nightmare. "The storm washed out part of the highway. We're stuck at a rest stop until they reopen the road."

"I heard about that on the news."

She started to smile in relief, but Ecklie kept talking.

"There's only one rest stop in that area. And there's only one motel at that rest stop. You and Grissom are at the Mountainside Rendezvous."

Sara stared at the cell phone in horror. This was it. They'd never live this down. Any chance there was of some sort of … forward movement was over. Grissom was already embarrassed and that was before others knew about their predicament. Ecklie's tone indicated he knew exactly where they were.

Sara blinked.

Exactly where they were.

"So, I take it you and your wife like this place," she ventured with a feigned innocence. Sara grinned broadly at the prolonged silence that greeted her.

"So, about Grissom's _sickness_," Ecklie said uneasily.

"He really is. Fever, congestion. Probably just a cold. I can bring you the used tissues if you want to run a DNA comparison."

"That won't be necessary. I'll tell Catherine to collect the bugs and leave them at the lab. Grissom can get to them later. Oh, Sara," he added after a moment. "The diner at the truck stop makes great pancakes. It's about the only thing there edible."

"Thanks, Conrad," Sara said, laughing as she set the phone down. After a few minutes, her cell phone rang. She eyed it cautiously before answering.

"Hey, girl. I hear you two got stuck in the mountains."

"Yeah, Warrick."

"You know, when I first started to work here, we got a call to help in a case out that way. A hiker was found dead in the mountains."

"You don't say," Sara replied, closing her eyes nervously.

"Yeah. Spent three days there. The only motel in the area was really something else."

"What was that? You're breaking up," Sara said, scrapping her fingernail against the mouthpiece. "It must be the mou…"

Hanging up, she tossed the phone back on the vanity and dropped her head into her hands. It figures half the lab would be able to figure out where they'd spent the night. Grissom was going to freak when he learned. And if she didn't tell him, someone else would. She lifted her head up slowly.

"And so it begins."


	4. Ch 4

**Bear Witness  
Summary: **More bears than a circus act.  
**A/N: **Part four. My very late response to the Unbound Challenge. First and last lines are provided. I forgot to thank my beta last week, so thanks to Ann, Burked and Marlou for their services on this and/or last week's chapter.  
**Rating: **PG-13   
**Disclaimer: **Pick you favorite disclaimer from any previous story and insert it here

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

Grissom turned his head towards the spiky-furred bear and frowned. The speaker was addressing the pink-bowed bear underneath him, and she responded by growling contentedly. Feeling a bit self-conscious and oddly in the mood for some honey, Grissom ignored them and lumbered towards the bathroom. This was _his_ den, after all.

"Hey, it's Fuzzy Wuzzy!"

Grissom stopped and slowly turned around, his eyes wide-open. How come he'd never noticed Greg was a teddy bear before? And the female bear enjoying the young CSI's attentions wasn't Ursula – it was Sara.

Blinking wildly, Grissom stared at them in horror. He reached down to tug on the red shirt covering his belly, only to find he wasn't wearing one. And he had no fur. In fact, he was totally nude.

And Sara was laughing. At him.

"Oh, bother," said Grissom.

With a start, his eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly. His hands reached up to rub his face, and Grissom sighed. He'd suspected their surroundings would affect his dreams, but there was no way he'd been expecting something like that. An involuntary shudder ran through his body as he recalled the nightmare. Nothing like that would ever happen. Would it?

Besides Sara laughing at his nakedness.

Groaning, he closed his eyes briefly. This whole situation had been one embarrassing encounter after another. Unfortunately, it was on the verge of becoming worse. The liquids Sara insisted he needed to drink had worked their way through his system, and he really did need to get to the bathroom. All he had to do was figure a way of getting there with some shred of his dignity left intact.

He looked at the robe at the foot of the bed and immediately discarded that idea. It was see-through; even bundled up, it wouldn't provide any cover. His eyes darted to the figure next to the robe. Sara was leaning against the footboard, sleeping lightly. Despite the urgency of the situation, Grissom took a moment to watch her.

She'd wrapped one arm around the post, and had one leg hooked over the edge of the mattress to prevent being drawn into the vortex that was the center of the bed. Her free leg had drifted somewhat, and in the process, the towel wrapped around her waist had started to come undone, revealing a bit more of her legs.

With a raised eyebrow, he cocked his head to the side, enjoying the new view. Clearing his throat softly, Grissom pulled his head away. He was already embarrassed enough without his body joining into the game. Somehow, he doubted Sara would find _that_ amusing. And if he didn't find a way to get to the bathroom, he was going to be even more embarrassed.

Grissom was ready to take his chances by strategically holding the pillows when he spotted his boxers folded neatly on the nightstand. His initial joy was short-lived after he realized they were also just out of his reach. Sara's legs were in his way of sliding close enough to reach them.

Moving carefully, Grissom inched his way as close to her as possible, taking care not to wake Sara. As hard as he tried, he couldn't reach his shorts. With a resigned sigh, he cautiously lifted up the covers and leaned over her, quickly grabbing his underwear with a triumphant grin.

Sinking back into the bed, he repressed a groan. Sara's eyes were closed, but a slight smile had formed on her lips. She hadn't gotten another look, had she? With as much decorum as possible, Grissom wrestled his way into his boxers beneath the sheets before making a beeline to the bathroom.

As he was drying his hands, he noted the towels in the bathroom were on the damp side. Looking around, his eyebrow went back up as he reconstructed what had happened. At some point, Sara had come in here and shifted their clothes around so they'd dry faster. She'd also used a towel to dry his shorts for him. Grissom shifted uncomfortably; for some reason the thought of her hands on his boxers was very flustering.

Before he could head back to the bedroom, the lights went out, and he swore loudly.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," Grissom answered shortly. Having someone fuss over him was always uncomfortable, even if the person was Sara.

"Hold on. I have a flashlight in my bag."

Grissom stepped to the side, thinking he was clearing the way for Sara. Instead, they collided, and he automatically reached out to prevent her from falling.

"Hey! Watch the hands!"

It really wasn't intentional that his hands landed on her hips. But they had, and Grissom couldn't deny that there was definitely a spark building between them. He only hoped he wouldn't sneeze and ruin the mood.

"Your hands are on my chest," he pointed out.

"That's not the same!" Sara replied, rolling her eyes despite being in a totally dark room. Weren't motels supposed to have emergency lighting? She shifted her weight uneasily as she realized how much she was enjoying the situation.

"Well, my hands aren't roaming!"

Sara's head snapped to where Grissom's chest would be and noted that her fingers, in fact, had been trailing over the muscular flesh. Her palms rested against him, and she lifted her fingers quickly. What was she doing? What were they doing? She rolled her eyes again. It had been a long time, but not _that_ long. She knew exactly what was happening – she just wasn't sure how it started.

"I wasn't complaining," Grissom chuckled.

Sara swallowed, and ducked her head bashfully. Even in the dark, she could tell they were moving closer together. Slowly, her fingers lowered back to his chest, fanning out slightly. She smiled as Grissom's hands tightened their grip. The tip of her tongue ran nervously over her lips.

And then the lights came back on.

Without the anonymity of darkness, they both stepped away, suddenly timid. They left the room together, trying to hide the smiles on their faces.


	5. Ch 5

**Bear Witness  
Summary: **Have you read the first four chapters? Then why are you checking here? Same story!  
**A/N: **Part five. My response to the Unbound Challenge. First and last lines are provided. There's supposed to be a 1,000-word limit, but since I missed the previous two weeks' entries, I made this one longer. Thanks to Marlou for beta services on this and/or last week's chapter.  
**Rating: **PG-13   
**Disclaimer: **Same old, same old.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"What is that supposed to be?" she asked with a grimace.

"Some questions are probably best left unanswered."

At Grissom's response, Sara dropped the mystery leather lashing back onto the second 'bed' in their motel room. She thought he was asleep again; after their near-kiss and the resulting embarrassment, he'd quickly heeded her suggestion to crawl back under the covers. In the ensuing silence, she'd examined the room's other sleeping apparatus. As much as she wanted a nap, there was no way she'd sleep on that thing.

That left the bed.

With Grissom.

Crossing her arms nervously, Sara tried to find a spot to focus her attention on that wasn't sexually charged. Considering their location, she had little luck. The constant barrage of Ursula and her friends was taking a toll on her. Being stuck in a motel with Grissom would be tense enough. Being stuck in an unimaginably tacky sexual getaway would be tense. Combine the two, and Sara was almost ready to walk back to Vegas.

With a resolute sigh, she turned around and faced Grissom. Her first thought was she should have stuck to staring at the fornicating teddy bears – that would have been less distracting. He was propped up on the pillows, the covers doing nothing to cover his chest. Her next thoughts were recalling the way that same flesh felt under her fingers, and how much she was anticipating what was coming next.

"You're up," she said, her mouth dropping at the salacious innuendo that waltzed right into her completely innocent statement. Grissom's shocked expression left no doubt about the way it had sounded.

Giving her head a shake, Sara dropped her eyes to the carpeting. Her mind was teetering between how dangerously quick things were moving, and how ridiculously slow things were moving. Okay, she'd admit it: she wanted Grissom – not that she would tell _him_ that. But like this? Under these circumstances? It had to be a recipe for disaster. Already, he looked as abashed as she felt.

"Sara?"

"Sorry."

"For what?"

She looked back to find Grissom watching her carefully. Her mind noted the hint of fear in his eyes, but her body fixated on the tip of his tongue resting on his lips. Snapping her own eyes back to the floor, she rolled her shoulders.

"This whole thing. It's … awkward."

She glanced in his direction, and again his eyes conveyed his distress. At first, Sara thought it was due to their earlier encounter, but now it dawned on her that he thought she was the one that regretted what had almost happened. A raucous commotion from the neighboring room caught the attention of both of them.

"What the hell?" Grissom muttered.

"The Quackery."

"What?"

Sara shrugged again. On her foray to the vending machines, she'd passed the two traveling salesman stuck in the adjoining room. They sat outside of their door with shell-shocked expressions. They mentioned the need to find alcohol as she went by; from the giggles and duck calls emanating from the room, they must have been successful.

"The room next to us is 'The Quackery'," she explained.

Grissom's eyebrow went up as he tilted his head. "Donald? Daisy?" he mused philosophically as he listened to the quacks.

"Daffy?"

"Huey, Dewey and Louie? The possibilities are…"

"Disturbing," she finished for him.

"Sara, I…"

Looking over her shoulder, she found Grissom struggling for words. He gave her a sad look before focusing on his hands.

"I'm sorry you find being stuck with me such a bad experience."

"It's not you. It's this place," she said, smiling encouragingly at him. "I'll never look at a teddy bear the same way."

"As Freud said…"

"Let's leave Freud out of this," she urged softly. "I can't believe anyone willingly comes here. Uh, oh."

"What?"

Sara slowly turned towards him, and Grissom could see her discomfort. Her head bobbed from side to side before she let out a sigh.

"There's something you need to know."

"Oh?" he said cautiously.

"Ecklie called."

"Why?"

"Seems Cath tried to call you earlier. They have a case with bugs."

"I had my pager turned off."

"Yeah, well, Ecklie got word that you hadn't returned her messages. So he called."

"But I never talked to him."

"No," she said, wincing slightly. "I was in the bathroom drying our clothes, and I picked up your cell by mistake. I told him we were stuck at this exit until the road clears."

"Did he question why you were answering my phone?"

"Yeah. That's not all. He knows this is the only motel in the area. He guessed we were here. Together. Don't freak," she added quickly.

"I do not freak."

"Right," Sara said, smirking as she continued. "Since he knew _exactly_ where we were, I asked him if his wife enjoyed this motel."

"So this is the getaway in the mountains Conrad and his wife like to visit."

"What! You mean he really brings his wife here?"

"You'd prefer if he brought someone other than his wife here?" Grissom asked in confusion.

"I'd rather not think what type of person enjoys this place!"

At his chuckle, she raised an eyebrow pointedly. "And Warrick knows."

"What?" Grissom asked slowly.

"You stuck him here on one of his first cases."

"Oh."

Sara stared at him quizzically. "'Oh.' That's all you have to say? You know the whole lab is going to know we got stuck here."

Grissom sat silently in the middle of the bed. Belatedly, she wished they'd at least kissed once before he closed her off. To her surprise, Grissom merely shrugged. "The road washed out. Commonsense dictates that we would be stranded somewhere together. No one at the lab will honestly think anything about this."

She started to ask him if he knew anything about Catherine, but thought better of it. They were both embarrassed, but he wasn't hiding under the bed. If anything, he seemed more comfortable in their surroundings since their embrace.

Grissom smiled hesitantly and patted the side of the mattress when an uncontrollable yawn escaped her lips. Sara hesitated, but his hopeful expression finally convinced her to take a seat. Immediately, she slid to the center of the mattress, her rear bumping into his sheet-covered thigh.

"What do they lubricate this cover with? Don't," she barked, holding up her hand in warning. "Don't answer that."

"We'll head back to Vegas soon," Grissom assured her. A loud crash of thunder picked that time to highlight the fact that the washed out road wouldn't be cleared any time in the immediate future.

She shimmied back up the mattress and turned so she was propped up against the headboard. Despite her efforts, once again Sara slid towards Grissom.

"You're hot," she said softly. When his eyes opened widely, she sat up quickly. "Feverish! You still have a fever! Oh, God," she moaned, burying her face in her hands.

"It's okay. I know what you meant. Sara, we're both adults. I think we can control ourselves," he said. "Like you, I don't find the idea of being watched by dirty bears to be enjoyable."

She peeked through her fingers, and he nodded. Grissom was right. They were adults. They could sit together calmly. Ursula's constant vigil was disturbing, but it was also a safety net. As long as they were visually assaulted by carnal teddy bears, nothing was going to happen that either of them would later regret. Smiling, she settled back on the pillows.

And then the lights went out.


	6. Ch 6

**Bear Witness   
****Summary: **Is the tension getting unbearable yet?  
**A/N:** Another response to the Unbound Improv Challenge. (There's a link in my bio.) First and last lines are provided. Thanks to Marlou and Ann for looking over this.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** I have _not_ been under the influence while writing this story. And I can't figure out why CBS won't give me their most profitable show.

* * *

"And I don't even know what a sphincter is!" 

Sara closed her eyes, although it was unnecessary in the near-total darkness of the room. So far, neither of them had said a word as they both stared directly ahead, trying to ignore their predicament. The loud statements from the neighboring room weren't helping. The merciful silence ended with the loud rendition of an irritated goosed duck, followed by howls of laughter.

"I guess his friend told him," Grissom supplied.

"I should go ask them where they found the booze. Right now? Getting drunk sounds like a good idea."

"I'm sure the power will be back on soon."

Opening her eyes, she turned her head to the side. She barely made out Grissom's form next to her. The tension in his muscles would have been obvious, though, even if her hand hadn't decided to stroke his arm reassuringly. Some part of her mind warned her this was heading to dangerous territory, but she continued her gentle caresses.

Sara felt a blush creeping over her body as Grissom grabbed her hand and lifted it away. Thoughts of spontaneous combustion danced through her mind when he brought her captured hand to his lips and wiggled his other arm around her shoulders.

At his urging, she lifted up and allowed him to pull down the comforter and sheets. Bashfully, Sara snuggled under the covers beside him. He shifted slightly, and ran his fingers down her side.

"You're not wet," he noted, groaning softly. "Your clothing is dry."

"About time you tripped over a sentence," she chuckled.

"Comfortable?"

"Are you kidding?" Sara stammered, wincing when she felt him tense again.

"I can go sleep in the tub if you'd prefer."

"I don't. Uh, let's just say that making this more comfortable _now_ could make things very uncomfortable _later_," she explained, but still took the opportunity to rest her head on his shoulder. She smiled when his fingers worked their way to her hair.

"Or it could make things very comfortable later," he countered, prompting a bigger smile from Sara.

"You sure about that?"

"This wasn't how I imagined this trip would go, but I don't think either of us can lie well enough to deny what's going on," he said.

"Just what did you imagine for this trip?" Sara prompted, recalling how insistent he'd been for her to tag along.

"I hoped we'd have a nice dinner."

"Dinner?"

"If I remember correctly, that was something you weren't adverse to. I hoped it was still something you'd be interested in. I didn't imagine anything like this ever happening."

"Ever?" she teased.

"Not in these circumstances," he admitted.

"Good. 'Cause if I found out you had a furry suit, I'd be seriously weirded out."

"No furry suit. A very nice plush one, actually. The hand-stitching is excellent, but it does get a bit hot in the summer."

"Behave," Sara chuckled, running her hand over his chest.

"I'll do my beary best."

"What did you say?"

"That I'd do my very best," Grissom answered, sounding confused.

Sara squinted at him, but the glare was meaningless in the dark. She couldn't see his eyes, so she couldn't tell if he was joking, or if her hearing was playing games with her. Even if he was teasing her, she didn't mind. A smirk slowly formed as her hand traced up his torso, over his neck and up to his face. Her fingers traced lightly until she found his lips, and then she leaned forward to kiss him.

It ended up being passionately chaste, as were the ones that followed. Both of them yearned for the contact, but both were still hesitant to fully engage. Their mouths moved together in shy, short motions, but the depth of longing was conveyed clearly. Sara moaned softly when Grissom drew her closer, gradually lengthening their kisses.

She pulled back when he began making a series of odd, strangled sounds. When the sneeze he'd been vainly trying to prevent finally escaped, Sara resisted the urge to laugh. Instead, she reached out and moved her hand around until she found the box of tissues.

"Go back to sleep," she said. "You need to sleep this cold off."

"I am not sick," Grissom muttered petulantly before blowing his nose. The sound that emerged prompted their neighbors to answer with a raucous round of goose honks and giggles.

"You okay?" Sara asked softly when he remained silent for a long time.

"I've probably given you my cold."

"No big deal. If that happens, then we'll both need bed rest," she assured Grissom, turning so her back was to him and preparing to nap. Thoughts of sleep fled from her mind when he curled around her.

"I don't know how restful that would be," Grissom said in mock-seriousness.

"We'll have to find out sometime," she said, any suggestiveness lost in her deep yawn.

"Yes, we will. Now you get some sleep."

"I'll try. These bears creep me out."

"I'll protect you from the naughty bears," Grissom teased as he slipped his arm around her waist.

"You will?"

"I think that is part of the job description of a … What, exactly, am I?" he asked uncertainly.

"My bear repellent."

"Ah."

Sara smiled when he softly nuzzled her cheek. Her hand slipped down to intertwine with his. Soon, though, she was leaning back into him as his lips moved down her neck.

Then the lights came back on.

Both of them froze, their embarrassment rising as they each noticed Ursula watching from the mirrored ceiling. They had the distinct feeling she was cheering them on. Grissom, guessing the source of the trouble, reacted quickly. Grabbing the covers, he pulled the material over their heads. The action gave them privacy from their onlookers, but allowed enough light to filter through so they could make each other out.

"I'm smarter than your average bear," he said in self-satisfaction at the result.

"You did not just say that!" Sara chuckled.

Grissom smiled contentedly, and pulled her back down onto the mattress. Wrapping an arm around her, he gave her a last kiss before settling them down to sleep. "I said I'd protect you from those nasty bears. I just realized my entire job can be done by guessing."

_TBC_


	7. Ch 7

**Bear Witness  
Summary: **Bear with me as I offer up another chapter based on this week's Unbound Improv challenge. First and last lines are provided, with 1,000 words to fill in the rest.  
**A/N:** Blame the usual suspects for this!  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** Do I look like Sumner Redstone? Of course I don't own CSI.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"The sex was incredible."

Grissom's smile turned into a grimace as he froze in mid-stretch. Unlike his previous nap, this one had been free of bawdy bear-induced nightmares. In fact, his dreams had been rather pleasant. A blush crept under his beard as he wondered if that one dream had gone a little too far; thoughts that his body had found yet another way to embarrass him caused a mild panic.

Quickly, he completed a mental checklist. His boxers were on, and there was no immediately obvious evidence of what Sara suggested. Unable to discern the reason for her statement, his eyes darted to his side. She was watching him, one eyebrow raised in amusement. Seeing his discomfort, she laughed and nodded towards the television set. On the screen, a pair of rather large bears were in the process of procreating the species.

"You have to be kidding," he groaned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Glancing back at the television, he wondered when nature specials began including tacky music during the more delicate scenes.

Still laughing, Sara reached over to shift the pillows behind his back. "The only things on are adult movies or a show about Kodiak bears."

"There's a difference?"

"Not really. I'm pretty sure they've edited this special. I don't think bears are the porn stars of the forest in real life."

"And you've been watching this?"

"I was bored," Sara replied with a shrug. "I didn't want to wake you up, and you do not want to see the reading material in here. Besides, I was trying to find a news report to see if the road had been reopened."

"In a hurry to get out of here?" Grissom asked.

"Damn straight."

He chuckled softly at her adamant tone. Leaning back against the headboard, he drabbed his arm around her shoulder, smiling contentedly when she settled against him. Despite their horrendous surroundings, this trip had turned out far better than he ever dreamt possible. His free hand came over to brush her cheek softly. When she tilted her head towards him, Grissom took the opportunity to kiss her. Others followed, but the watching bears continued to curb their passion. The make-shift make-out session lingered as they gradually grew bolder in their advances as thoughts of the watching bears were replaced with more pleasant images.

Then Grissom pulled back, turning his head and sneezing loudly.

Grabbing the box of tissues, he muttered about his immune system's terrible timing. Sara was watching him with concern, but he didn't acknowledge it. Ever since he was a child, Grissom hated to have anyone fuss over him. It was going to take him some time to get used to having someone who cared about him.

"What about the radio?" Grissom asked, throwing away the tissues. He gave her a weak smile, belatedly hoping he hadn't infected her as well.

"No luck. I think it's safe to assume that they are themed to go with the rooms. We had 'Teddy Bear'," she said, pointing over her shoulder to the neighboring room. "You missed multiple choruses of 'Rubber Ducky'."

"Joy of joys."

Sara smirked in his direction, giving his cheek a quick peck before climbing out of the bed. She stretched slowly as she headed towards the bathroom. "The rain stopped about an hour ago. I'll go check with the front desk, or at the gas station, see if there's any word about the roads."

Taking her jeans off of the shower rod, she was surprised to find Grissom leaning against the doorframe, and her face flushed under his open examination. "What?"

Flashing her a smile, he walked into the bathroom as well, heading to the towel rack on the far wall. There, he glared at his still damp clothing in distaste. "I'll go with you."

"You should be in bed."

"It's not nearly as much fun when you're not there," he deadpanned as he forced his way into his squishy jeans. "Besides, I still owe you dinner."

"Breakfast. Ecklie said the only thing edible at the diner were the pancakes."

Grissom turned back to her, and his eyes dropped. She'd taken the towel off, and he had his first unobstructed view of her legs. Thoughts of the road diminished as he leisurely drug his eyes upwards. It was the towel dropping back into place that caused him to look at her face.

Sara tried to give him a mildly irritated glare, but her deep blush showed her embarrassment. Realizing he was making her uncomfortable, he grabbed the rest of his clothes and headed back to the bedroom.

Grissom was staring at the television with a quizzical expression. The same pair of bears – as far as he could tell – had yet to complete one of nature's essential acts. His discomfort grew until he turned off the animal porn. Unfortunately, the room offered little else in the way of distractions.

When she exited the bathroom, Sara shrugged in his direction and rolled her eyes. Seeing the remnants of the blush, he walked over and drew her into a bear hug. His hands stroked her back until she relaxed.

"Shall we?" Grissom asked, pointing towards the door.

Sara left the room first, and she promptly tried to push him back into their room. Her efforts were unsuccessful. She shook her head rapidly, but he continued to stare at the man entering the room across the hallway. Grissom turned to her with a curious expression, pointing at the now-closed door.

"Why is he wearing a gorilla suit?"


	8. Ch 8

**Bear Witness  
Summary**: What would Grissom's mother think of this?  
**A/N:** Yet another chapter using the Improv Challenge lines. First and last lines provided. G/S. Thanks to Burked and Ann for beta services.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't have one.

* * *

**Chapter 8 **

It was the hardest thing he ever had to do. Over the years, Grissom had sat across from some of the toughest criminals, the most dangerous minds in Vegas, but no one made him as uncomfortable as the woman now across the table from him. By nature a private man, the series of unfortunate events that highlighted the past several hours were bad enough, but this simple meal was proving to be the most difficult thing.

And she had The Glare.

Sara noticed his discomfort and tilted her head to give him a quizzical look. Grissom gave her a small smile in return, then resisted the urge to square his shoulders. The disapproving look did not go away, and the memories of his mother finding his magazine stash when he was a teenager floated to his mind.

"Do you have ants in your pants, boy? Stop squirming!"

"Yes, ma'am," Grissom said, his voice automatically taking a mild tone.

Sara, now completely confused, turned her head to him, her eyebrow raised in a silent challenge. Grissom tried to ignore her, uncertain how to explain his unease. It was embarrassing enough that his attempt to spend some time outside of the lab with her turned into a meteorological disaster cum assault by sexual teddy bears. Or that he was sitting next to her in waterlogged jeans, and his body picked this time to succumb to a virulent cold.

No, to top it off, they were now facing the last person he wanted to run into in this situation.

He and Sara had made their way to the diner to grab something to eat, but the place was filled with travelers lucky enough not to get a room at the motel. In the end, they had to share a table with an elderly couple. While he understood they wouldn't be able to share their meal alone, it was who they ended up sitting with that was causing his problems.

The woman bore an ungodly resemblance to Grissom's mother. Everything from her build, to the way her eyes lit up when she was displeased. Except this woman could hear. And to the best of his knowledge, his mother had never worn clothing made from yarn and empty beer cans. Still, it was spooky, complete to her patented, can-make-her-son-squirm glare. He hadn't seen a look that severe since the time he used her best dishes during a seagull autopsy.

When the waitress brought their menus, Grissom gladly hid behind one. His relief was short-lived; the diner and the motel had to be connected.

"What kind of menu is this?" his pseudo-mother's companion asked. "Monkey Business Sandwich?"

"That's peanut butter and bananas. You don't like that. Ursula's Honey Glazed Chicken sounds okay," she replied. Hearing Sara's snort, The Glare was directed at her. "What?"

"Nothing," Sara said, grinning as she ran over the rest of the menu. "They have Quacks A L'orange."

"I noticed," Grissom said, his blush threatening to raise his body temperature even further. He kept reminding himself that the woman opposite of him wasn't his mother, and he didn't have to explain how he ended up in a sexual retreat with a woman considerably younger than himself. Despite his growing embarrassment, his attention did go to one item.

"What did you find?" Sara asked, a cautionary tone in her own voice.

"Cowboy Charlie's Chocolate Cake, served with Ropin' Rob's Raspberry Sauce."

"You cannot be interested in _that_," Sara said, dropping her menu to fix him with her own version of The Glare. The double-ogled assault was especially disturbing.

"I like cowboys," he offered weakly.

"Yee-ha," Sara muttered under her breath, frowning as she continued to read. "Prurient Pansy's Perky Pancakes?"

"I wonder what makes them perky," pseudo-mother's companion asked.

"What's prurient?"

"You don't want to know," Grissom and Sara answered in unison.

"I don't like this place," pseudo-mother announced once their orders had been placed. "They wouldn't rent us a room. It's age discrimination."

"The rooms are a bit …" Sara began to explain. She stopped, frowning deeply at Grissom's mildly panicked expression, and his frantic attempts to shake his head without making any motions. "It's not a great place to stay."

"What's wrong with them?"

"They're dirty," Grissom offered, turning to give Sara a look that indicated he didn't want any further discussion.

Much to his relief, the meal concluded without his mother's doppelganger wanting to know details of their relationship, although he noted she stared at their bare ring fingers pointedly. On multiple occasions.

Paying for their meal, Grissom slid out of the booth with a loud squishy sound, and quickly escorted Sara from the room.

"Do I want to know?" was all she asked as they made their way to the lobby.

"Would you believe me if I said that could have been my mother?"

"No way!"

"Except she doesn't take recycling to that extreme," Grissom noted, smiling at her lightly. "This is not a place I wanted to meet my mother."

"Especially with a woman of ill-repute," Sara teased.

"I thought I was the ill one."

"Oh, no. You are _sick_. Don't even go looking for that cowboy room."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"That had better be the fever talking, or I am so out of here," Sara stated, only half-jokingly.

"Sorry. I'm still a bit on edge from that encounter," he replied with an abashed shrug.

"I can understand that. She really gave you some looks."

"They even made me remember the time Mom found the stack of magazines under my mattress when I was thirteen," he said, glad to see Sara's broad smile. "It took me forever to convince her I wasn't going to order all that morgue equipment."

"You had morgue supply catalogues? As a kid?"

"Yeah. I knew what I wanted to do. Why wouldn't I?"

"Most guys that age would have had other magazines hidden from their mothers."

If Grissom had thought that his blushes had reached their full potential earlier, he was wrong. How had they ended up discussing _that_? It wasn't a subject he wanted to discuss with Sara. In reality, that was one reading material he didn't have to hide. He just kept copies of certain art gallery listings. His mother never suspected why he had those.

He hoped.

In retrospect, hadn't she smiled in relief whenever he asked to keep a copy?

"You okay?"

Grissom realized he'd stopped suddenly and his jaw had dropped open. He nodded, then thought to close his mouth.

"Just remembering something from my childhood."

Sara reached back and linked her arm through his before giving him a salacious wink. "Teenage wasteland," she grinned.


	9. Ch 9

**Bear Witness  
****Summary: **A beleaguered fan fic writer is trapped in a story because no one will supply lines that can be used as a final chapter!  
**A/N: **Yet another response to the Unbound Improv Challenge. First and last lines provided, with 1,000 words to fill in the middle. Thanks to Ann for looking this over.  
**Disclaimer:** If I owned CSI, and I was doing this, then something is seriously wrong with me. (No comments from the peanut gallery! Hey, that sounds like an idea for another room …)

* * *

**Chapter 9 **

"You should not believe in anything for which there is absolutely no evidence." Catherine punctuated her statement with by swinging her hair out of her face. Dropping another bug into a jar, she flashed her companion an irritated glare. "There's no way that can be true."

Warrick grinned in response, enjoying the open-mouthed stare she directed his way. It took a lot to shock her, and he relished that he managed it so well. "Hey, I'm telling you what I know."

"Grissom? At a fetish motel? No way."

"It's the only motel in that area."

"Well, he's not enjoying it!" she insisted, pausing as she cocked her head in thought. "Not unless there was a dead body or bugs there. Preferably both."

"Or Sara."

Catherine shuddered, and Warrick bit back his laughter as he lifted a beetle from their dead body. This was turning out to be more fun than he imagined, and the bugs had nothing to do with it.

"No way," she said, shaking her head for emphasis.

"You don't believe me?"

"No! There's no way. I'd believe Ecklie went to a place like that before I would Gil does. And I don't believe you'd catch Ecklie dead there. I know how to settle this," she muttered under her breath, pulling out her cell phone quickly. "Remember who you're talking about. Grissom having sex is like … I don't know what. Aliens, or something. There's a logical explanation. And with Sara? Sara?"

On the other end of the line, Sara closed her eyes. She'd done it again – she'd answered Grissom's phone by mistake. Of course, she'd been distracted by trying to get him out of his pants when she picked it up.

"Hey, Cath," she said, stopping her movements and looking up when he let out a long moan. Reaching over, she ran her hand soothingly over his arm.

"Sara?" Catherine repeated.

"I know who I am. You seem confused, though," she replied lightly, trying to ignore the incredulous stammer in her colleague's voice. It figured Grissom would be loud enough for Cath to hear.

"Grissom?"

"He's in bed," she answered with a belated wince.

"Grissom?"

"Sick. He's sick. Didn't Ecklie tell you?"

"Yeah. Yeah."

Sara pulled the phone away and stared at it for a minute. Letting out a sigh, she pointed at Grissom's still damp pants, and made a pantomime for him to take them off. For the first time, he registered that she was on his cell phone. He closed his eyes and rolled into the center of the bed with a load groan when she mouthed 'Catherine'.

"What did Warrick tell you?" Sara demanded, heading to the bathroom to retrieve a glass of water. Walking back to the bed, she tried to ignore what appeared to be a physically impossible sexual activity involving multiple teddy bears stenciled on the side of the glass.

"Nothing. Nothing. You'll be back in Vegas soon?"

"The latest word is the road should be opened in another hour or two. Figure a couple more hours for us to get through the traffic."

"Right. Right."

"You have any messages for Grissom?"

"No. No."

"Okay, then," Sara sighed. "Bye. Bye."

She put the cell phone back on the nightstand and sank onto the edge of the bed. Immediately, she slid into the center and bumped into Grissom. Sara rolled her eyes before scaling the mattress and sitting up. She shook her head in defeat; the whole lab was going to know what happened before they made it back to Vegas. The gesture was wasted, though. He'd yet to uncover his eyes.

"Grissom, get out of those pants. They're still damp. You'll make yourself sicker."

"I'm not sick."

"Right. You're practically green around the gill, Grissom"

On the bed, he lifted his head slowly, fixing her with an ill-tempered stare. He didn't maintain it long; she was too caring, and it was taking too much effort. Just when he thought his body had run out of things to do to embarrass him, it found an entire new avenue.

"It's not the cold," he said, frowning at the congested sound that came from his mouth.

"Yeah."

"No. Ropin' Rob's Raspberry Sauce needed a rancid in the title."

"Shit!"

"Tell me about it," he groaned into the pillow.

Sara quickly went back to the bathroom, this time returning with the trashcan. Grissom tried to wave away her hand from his forehead, but the mattress was too shaky, and the motion upset his stomach. Seasickness was the last thing he needed at this point.

"Let me check your fever," she said with a trace of impatience. "If you have food poisoning…"

"I don't. It's just not sitting well."

"Okay, I'm leaving this by your side," Sara told him, holding up the trashcan for good measure. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Where are you going?"

"I think there was ginger ale in the vending machines."

"I don't need anything," Grissom pouted, rolling over and moaning despite his best efforts. It was terrible. He managed to get Sara away from work, and despite their hideous surroundings, she was receptive to his advances. And after years of nothing more than occasional migraine, his body picked today to go into complete and total revolt. "Murphy was an optimist," he complained grouchily.

"No, you're bull-headed. And there's probably a room for that here, but I'm not going to look for it."

"I don't need you to take care of me," Grissom said between his groans.

"Fine. I bet I can find your 'Mom' back in the diner," Sara said. She did feel sorry for Grissom's illness, but his pouting wasn't attractive. That threat cut through his sour mood, and he eyed her fretfully.

"You need to keep up your liquids. I'm getting you some ginger ale. I want you," she added, pausing with a wink as she got off the bed, "to get well soon."

"I don't like ginger ale," he told her before she reached the door. "And no orange or cream sodas. I want a root beer."

Sara turned and smiled to see him sitting up in bed eagerly. Still, she wasn't going to let him walk over her. "I'll see what they have. I'm not really a waitress."


	10. Chapter 10

**Bear Witness  
****Summary:** I'm bearly able to keep this story going!  
**A/N:** A tenth chapter, once again using the weekly Improv Challenge. First and last lines are provided, with 1,000 words to fill in the rest. Thanks to Ann and Burked for looking this over.  
**Disclaimer:** Go read one of the earlier ones!

* * *

**Chapter 10 **

"Did you know that there is a butterfly called Sara?"

Sitting at the lab bench, a harried Greg paused long enough to lift his head up. He had a ton of work to do, but that comment caught his attention. Looking to his side, he found Hodges leaning against the table with his arms folded in a matter-of-fact manner.

"You're supposed to turn on the fume hood when you're working with those chemicals," Greg told him. "Brain cells don't grow back. But I guess someone should have told you that years ago."

"Like you should talk. How much did it cost to rebuild the lab?"

"This coming from the guy that spent fifty dollars for a copy of the Starsky and Hutch board game."

"I know! Wasn't that a bargain?" Hodges asked gleefully.

"Oh, yeah," Greg said, his sarcasm either lost or ignored by his companion. "Why are you naming butterflies?"

"I'm not, genius. That's the scientific name. There's the Anthocharis sara in California – that's the Sara Orangetip. And then there's the Heliconius sara, AKA the Sara Longwing. Found from Mexico to the Amazon Basin."

"If you want to butter up Grissom, you need to do it while he's here. Or do you think you can impress Sara?"

"Right! Everyone knows that's a lost cause. Well, anyone that's aware of what's going on around here," Hodges added, giving Greg a pointed look.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, please! Everyone knows Sara and Grissom are a thing. They have a 'past' – that's pretty up-to-date."

"In what universe?" Greg squeaked. "No way!"

"Yeah, and you're just ignoring the fact that they're off. Together. Out of town."

Greg shook his head. His earlier irritation of being short-handed at the lab fell to other emotions. This wasn't happening. "Grissom had to give a demonstration. He took Sara with him."

"Right. And staying at the motel was just a coincidence, I suppose."

"Motel?"

"Didn't you hear?" Hodges asked evilly. "Catherine tried to page Grissom, but he didn't get back to her. When they called him, Sara answered, since he was asleep."

"No!" Greg whispered in horror.

"Oh, yes. That motel is quite a romantic getaway. Conrad told me all about it."

"You talked to Ecklie about that? Eww!"

"Of course. We're like this," he said, holding his fingers together. "Very classy place, perfect spot for some … bed rest. Sara claimed they're staying there because the road was washed out, but no one believes that."

"Why not? It sounds good to me. I believe it."

"Because they didn't bother to tell anyone about it," Hodges replied silkily, thoroughly enjoying his torture of Greg. "It made for a convenient excuse for not coming to the scene, but that's all."

"You're full of it," Greg insisted, glaring at Hodges until he left the room. After staring at the wall disbelievingly for a long time, he decided to dispel his misgivings.

When the phone started ringing, Grissom yawned and picked it up quickly. While Sara had already answered it twice by mistake, his motives were less self-serving. He wanted her to sleep some more. On the rare occasions he got sick, Grissom knew he was a bear, and today had been no exception. Sara had put up with him patiently, and he wanted to do something nice for her.

"Grissom."

"Gah!"

"What can I do for you, Greg?" he asked with a deep yawn.

"Can I speak to Sara?"

"She's still asleep."

"Gah!"

Rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes, Grissom stared at his phone – still sitting on the nightstand. Resisting a groan, he sat up completely. What could possibly make this day any worse?

"We're stuck here, until the road is cleared, Greg," he explained, employing his best I'm-the-boss tone of voice. The heavy nasal quality made it more comical, though. "We'll probably wait for an hour or two after it's opened before we leave. Give traffic a chance to thin out. We'll see you next shift."

He hung up the phone before any more questions came his way. In actuality, they planned to delay heading out to give his body a chance to recover some more. His stomach finally settled down, without any embarrassing emissions, but he didn't want to take any chances.

"Whatsgoingon?"

Grissom turned at the sound, a smile forming despite his unease. Sara looked adorable with her hair tousled. He brushed a strand out of her eyes before tenderly kissing her forehead. "Go back to sleep, honey."

Any illusion that she was asleep left when her eye snapped open and her eyebrow shot up. Leaning against him, she reached her hand down to pat his resting on her hip. "No offense, Grissom, but that's not something I want to be called here. Sounds like a proposition."

He chuckled and brushed his lips against hers softly. "Actually, bears don't like honey."

"They don't?"

"No. They break into beehives to devour the larvae."

Sara gave him a bemused look before finally grinning. "So, you're saying Pooh was really a serial killer of baby bees. You're such a romantic."

"Not really. I think you know that by now," he answered slowly.

"I don't have any complaints."

"You don't?" Grissom asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah, actually I do. But not about this."

"And the rest of it?"

"We have some things we need to talk through," Sara told him. She rolled over, bringing her hands to rest on his chest as she nestled close. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

She smiled, nodding her head slightly. "Don't get me wrong. I want you, uh, us, to get together. But not here. And not under these circumstances."

"You're saying I shouldn't get my hopes up."

"Among other things," Sara said with a wide grin.

Grissom let out an embarrassed groan, but Sara's kiss cut it short. After a moment's confusion, he responded in kind, savoring the feel of her skin against his. When she eventually pulled back, he eyed her quizzically, his head tilted to the side.

"There's a lot of ground between where we are now, and where we have to stop," she explained, her fingers reaching up to trace patterns over his neck. Finding a tiny scar, Sara stopped her exploration and regarded the injury closely.

"I have several of them," he said. "Not all bugs are so nice as to come to the body. I had to get into some interesting places when I was in grad school."

"I never noticed them before."

"They're usually covered by clothing. Not that it should matter. You've seen all there is to see," he said with a slight blush.

"Yeah, well, the scars aren't what caught my attention," she replied huskily, her fingers moving around to the back of his neck. Grissom moaned deeply when her lips began to move around the tiny scar. His hands began their own quest after her tongue started to lick over the marred skin in slow, sensuous strokes.

She broke off the kiss and looked at him almost shyly, trying to judge his reaction to her ministrations. "Was that okay?" Sara asked.

"More than okay," he answered, already missing the feel of her lips on the scar. When Grissom sat up and reached for the hem of his t-shirt, she frowned lightly, prompting him to give her a reassuring wink.

"Would you like to see my collection?"


	11. Ch 11

**Bear Witness  
Summary: **Yet another children's story gets the perverted treatment. My entry to the Unbound Improv Challenge; first and last lines are provided, with 1,000 words to fill in the rest.  
**A/N:** Thanks to Ann for the beta.  
**Disclaimer: **Still don't own it.

* * *

**Chapter 11 **

"That feels good."

From his vantage point on the bed, Grissom admired Sara's lithe form as she stretched slowly. Recalling the way her skin felt under his hands, he smiled and propped himself up on his elbow. Since she was only wearing her tank top and underwear, there was plenty of her exposed for his viewing pleasure.

When he asked her to attend the conference, he'd hoped she'd still be receptive to his advances, but this trip turned out better than he'd dared dream. So entranced by the memories, he didn't immediately recognize her grimace, but the loud 'pops' her stretching created caught his attention.

Hopping out of the bed, he walked behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. He frowned, feeling the knotted muscles. "You're tense," he said softly, a small spark of concern growing.

"That damn 'bed'," Sara muttered, leaning back into his hands. "It definitely wasn't designed for sleeping."

Grissom didn't answer; he'd actually napped well, but that was because Sara had let him settle into the bottom of the dip while she took the uncomfortable sloped side of the mattress. He began to move his hands, trying to work out the tension from her shoulders.

"From the sounds of it, cars started leaving about an hour ago," he noted, continuing his gentle massage. "How about if we leave in another hour? That should give traffic some time to start to thin out."

"Yes!"

He chuckled at her enthusiastic response. "Getting tired of my company already?"

"No. I want out of this place. I feel like we've been stuck in here for months."

"It has been an eventful day."

"Oh, yeah. Ouch."

Grissom stopped kneading her muscles when she winced after he hit a particularly sore one. "Sorry. Why don't you take a hot bath? That'll help you relax."

Sara looked over her shoulder, her eyes opened wide and shaking her head softly. "No, thanks. Did you see the inside of that tub?"

"No. Is it dirty?" he asked, recalling her aversion to germs.

"Oh, yeah. Just like the rest of this place!" She let out a grunt and turned around to face him, resting her hands softly on his chest.

He continued to frown; this place wasn't nice, but a hot bath would be beneficial for her. "How bad can it be?"

"There's a mural of Ursula that incorporates the fixtures. The hot and cold water knobs even have tassels," she said. Seeing his confused expression, Sara grimaced, moving her hands in front of her own chest area. Grissom blushed slightly when she began to twist her hands around.

"Oh!"

"And the spigot into the tub? That goes with one of Ursula's friends. Male friends," she added with a disgusted look.

He blinked several times, trying not to picture that mentally. Giving his head a shake to clear the image that formed anyway, an idea came to him. Taking her hand in his, he led her to the bathroom, ignoring the glare directed at him.

"What are you doing?"

"I am your bear protector, remember?" Grissom teased. Seeing the mural, he tilted his head to the side, slightly disturbed at how closely his visualization matched the actual thing.

After verifying the opposite wall was free of carnal children's toys, he pushed her gently onto the side of the tub, with her back towards the mural. Kneeling beside her, he rested a hand on her knee. "The hot water will do you good. I'll fill the tub for you. You don't have to look at the bad bears."

Sara rolled her eyes, but Grissom just took her hand again and held it under the water. "How's that."

"Too hot."

He nodded and adjusted the water. "Now?"

"Too cold."

"Okay, how about now?"

"That's just right."

Both of them started at the same time. Sara gave him a pointed look, and he nodded, silently agreeing never to mention that snippet of conversation ever again.

"So, do you want me to wash your back for you?" Grissom asked after an awkward silence.

She grinned evilly at him. "You sure that's a good idea? Don't want to get your hopes up."

"Or other things."

"Again," she answered, reminding him of what happened during their last make-out session.

"You had to bring that up … had to mention that."

Seeing the red showing through his beard, she gave him a contrite shrug. "I keep telling you – you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Trust me on that count," she insisted, noting the slight chest puff her words garnered.

"It was a natural reaction, especially when you consider how long I've wanted to be with you."

"Really?"

Grissom nodded, and Sara licked her lips cautiously.

"So … how come you never acted on it before?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "Lots of reasons. No reason."

"How about work?"

"That's part of it."

It was her turn to nod, dropping her head. That was one of the main reasons she'd be adamant that they not consummate their relationship in this motel. The hideous décor and questionable sanitation were others, but she knew as bad as this place was, it wasn't as bad as the reaction they would get from their coworkers. She seriously wondered how he'd hold up to the teasing.

"We're never going to hear the end of this when we get back."

"I don't know about that," Grissom said, with more than a trace of hope. "Luckily, I sound sick."

"You are sick. You're still running a fever."

"It's not bad. It sounds worse than it really is. But that'll work in our favor. We'll tell them the truth – I tried to sleep this off. They may rib us about being stuck here, but no one will believe we actually did anything."

"You do know who we work with, don't you? Ecklie already thinks you asked me to come with you to the expo so we could stop here on the way home."

He picked up her hand in his. "Don't worry. We'll make it work."

Sara smiled at his earnest tone, leaning forward to kiss him lightly. Pulling back, she looked at the water level in the tub and then stood up. "My tub's almost ready."

"What? I can't stay and watch?" he asked, standing up and wrapping his arms around waist.

"I thought we already established that wasn't a good idea. Wah!"

"You don't like that?" he asked, removing his lips from her ear.

"Uh, it surprised me."

"I'll remember that."

"Why? Are you conducting a survey?"

He shrugged, pulling her closer against his body and moving his tongue down her neck before answering. "I'm a scientist. I'm experimenting."

Sara let out a purr of pleasure when he found an especially sensitive area, closing her eyes and leaning back into his chest. His natural curiosity and methodical nature led him to carefully explore the newfound spot, paying attention to all her reactions. She loved it when he did that.


	12. Ch 12

**Bear Witness  
****Summary**: The story that won't die is back for another chapter. My entry to the Unbound Improv Challenge; first and last lines are provided, with 1,000 words to fill in the rest.  
**A/N:** Thanks to Ann for the beta.  
**Disclaimer: **Would I do this to something I owned? Don't answer that.

* * *

**Chapter 12 **

"She's a wimp." Nick chuckled when Catherine's only response was to flip him off and continue swearing down the hallway. She'd been grumpy ever since she found out Grissom and Sara were both going to a demonstration, and swing shift had to pull a double to cover for them.

But for some reason, she'd be especially irritable since she returned from her DB. She'd suddenly stop and stare into the distance like she was in shock. It wasn't the case; that hadn't been so bad. And every time he tried to ask Warrick about it, he'd break out in a raunchy laugh.

Finally, she'd gone to check on Greg's case, but after a few moments in the room, she'd let out a screech, ranting at something he'd shown her. Nick's attempt to tease her about it only resulted in more yelling. Snickering behind his coffee mug, he strolled into the lab to see what Greg had done to set her off this time. He cocked his head in confusion when he saw a picture of a motel displayed in the web browser.

"The Mountainside Rendezvous? Never heard of it before. One of your favorite vacation spots?"

"No. Hodges told me about it. Ecklie told him."

Nick frowned. "And you are taking advice from them about where to stay. Something seems wrong with that picture."

"Not _that_ picture," Greg groaned. With a hesitant hand, he moved the mouse and clicked. Immediately, a photo gallery listing the available rooms appeared. Nick nearly dropped his coffee mug.

"Ecklie goes here? Oh, man. I didn't need to know that."

"This isn't so bad, is it?" Greg asked anxiously. "It's advertising. Ads always exaggerate. Probably not the least bit … interesting. I mean it's not anything … sexy."

"You feeling okay, boy? Look at that. Whoa, go back. Click on that one."

"No!"

"What's wrong with you? Wow," Nick whistled, staring at a painting of a well-endowed blonde bombshell. "'Prurient Pansy's Pad' looks … wow. What's prurient anyway?"

"You don't want to know. And I don't want any DNA samples in here."

Nick immediately closed his mouth.

"Yeah, like drool was what I was worried about," Greg muttered, going back to the motel's main page.

Nick laughed. "Which of those pissed Cath off?"

"All of them."

"What do you mean?" he asked in confusion. She was probably the last person in the lab who could be insulted by anything in these pictures. Sara he could understand having a strong reaction. As smart and tough as she was, she was still pretty reserved when it came to sexual matters. The various lifestyles portrayed by the pictures wouldn't interest her, and some of them would probably offend her.

"I don't want to talk about it. It's not true. There isn't anything about this place."

"Greggo, there's a warning on every page that you have to be at least eighteen to visit this website."

"I was trying to ignore that!" he groaned. With a miserable look, he turned to Nick. "Grissom took Sara there. That's where they are right now."

Nick suddenly broke out in a loud, uncontrollable laugh. He held his ribs as he bent over, his face flushing with mirth. "Oh, that's a good one. Tease the guy on his first night back. Good one."

"I'm serious."

"No!"

Greg nodded his head while Nick continued to swing his from side to side. "They're staying at the motel. Together. In the same motel room. That motel! One of these rooms. Together."

"Yeah, I get the idea." Nick's head continued swaying. "No way. Not Sara. She wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that."

"The road washed out. There's no other place to stay." Greg leaned his head on his hands and sighed pathetically.

"Well, why didn't you say that to begin with? They had to share a room. No big deal."

"You, you really think there's nothing to it?" Greg asked, seizing on a stray filament of hope. "I called her, and Grissom answered her phone. They were sleeping together."

"Come on. Sara in a place like that? She probably rigged up some sort barrier in the middle of the bed. Nothing happened," Nick assured him.

"Thanks. I knew I was right."

After Greg left, he eased his way to the computer, and pulled the web site back up. Looking around cautiously, he quickly printed out the page. He grabbed the sheets of paper and quickly folded them up. Nick's lips slowly pulled back in a lewd grin. "Grissom, you dawg!"

Meanwhile, back at the motel, the conjectural carnal canine squirmed uncomfortably. In an attempt to dry his jeans, he'd resorted to using the hair dryer supplied with the room. That had been unnerving in itself; someone had modified the device to look like a bear's head, so it was literally 'blowing' you.

While it helped rid his pants of the excess moisture, it created another problem: the heat caused them to shrink slightly. And despite all that had happened, it still disconcerted him that every time he turned around, Sara would suddenly dart her eyes back upwards with an appreciative grin.

"Keep those pants," she said, smiling wickedly. When he raised an annoyed eyebrow, she frowned and made her way to his side. Her hand slipped into his, squeezing softly. "Please tell me the truth."

"About what?"

"Do you regret this? Don't worry if you do. I know how hard it'll be for you when we get back. Everyone in the lab knows we were here, and they're going to think we … I just want to know now."

Grissom stared at her for a moment. He slowly turned around and pulled her body close to his. "I don't regret this."

"But what about work?"

"Do you have your digital camera with you?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Grissom kissed her deeply, gently caressing her until she relaxed in his arms. His tongue darted into her mouth, drawing a throaty moan. Pulling back, his chest swelled with self-satisfaction. Her eyes were half-closed and her breathing was heavy. "I want you to take pictures of everything in here."

Sara gave her head a shake. "Are you insane?"

"No. We're going to show everyone at the lab what this place is like."

"Brain damage caused by your fever. You're delusional."

Grissom pulled her back into his arms and smiled. "No, I'm not. Think about it. If you go back to the lab, and show everyone pictures of this room and make jokes about it, how do you think they'll react?"

"Reverse psychology? If we make a joke about this place, they won't believe anything happened between us."

"Exactly."

"Or they'll think we're a couple of pervs, and that stuff did happen," she countered.

"Stuff did happen. We're not pervs."

"But not the stuff they'll think happened between a pair of pervs like us." Sara let out a sigh, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Her hands began to make small motions over his back. "I don't know. I liked this. Being with you, finally being able to hold you. To kiss you."

"Will you like it more when we can do it in the privacy of our bedroom?"

"You're serious."

"Yes, I am. I can't promise everything will go perfectly. I've lived alone for a very long time. It's going to take some time to get use to sharing my life with someone. If you can have patience with me, I'll try."

"Promise me you'll keep these jeans," Sara growled sensuously as her hands slid downwards, and she captured his lips with her own.

When she finally pulled back, he blinked several times. Her mouth moved over his with more passion and promise than any of her earlier kisses. He'd already been staggered by her earlier acceptance; this was unbelievably good. And they still hadn't actually done anything. Thoughts of how good _that_ would be made him swallow nervously.

Grinning salaciously, Sara grabbed her camera and photographed the room with the speed that came from years of practice. After gathering their few belongings, she saw him still standing there in stunned silence. She sauntered out of the room, trying not to laugh as she moved her hips in an exaggerated manner.

"Keep the pants," she directed.

Grissom gave his head a nod as he shut the door.


	13. Chapter 13

**Bear Witness**  
**Summary: **I'm going to have to end this story eventually_…_ Unbound Improv Challenge entry – the first and last lines are provided, with 1,000 words to fill in the rest.  
**A/N: **Thanks to Ann and Marlou for the beta.  
**Disclaimer:** No bears, ducks or assorted wildlife were injured in the making of this story.

* * *

**Chapter 13 **

"Any chance this is a drug-induced hallucination?"

"No, Greg," Catherine said shortly, taking a long draw of her drink. "Grissom and Sara were there. Together."

"But the road washed out," Greg said. "They didn't have any choice about staying there. They were stuck."

"Yeah, and that's why they were sleeping together."

"So? It's innocent," he insisted, his hands gripping his drink tightly.

She snorted dismissively. "Yeah. Right. You couldn't find _innocent_ in that motel with a dictionary and seven Vestal Virgins."

"Vixens."

"What?" Catherine demanded coolly.

"Seven Vestal Vixens. It's one of the rooms at the motel. I wonder if that's the one they had. The whole room was done in a foxes in togas with _…_"

"I don't want to know about it!"

Warrick chortled loudly as he sank into the empty chair beside Catherine. She slowly fixed him with a cold stare, but that only made him laugh harder. With an indignant sigh, she threw back her head as she drained her drink.

"Take it easy with that root beer. Goes straight to your head," he warned with mock-severity, popping the top on his own can of soda. Looking at the moping faces around the break room table, he had to contain his own mirth. Who knew the prospect of Sara and Grissom being a couple could be this much fun?

"I can't believe the two of them are together," she groused. "And in a place like that."

Warrick grinned at Greg, who was whimpering softly as he put his head on the table. "Hey, I gotta agree with Nick. I underestimated Grissom. I never realized he was such a player before."

"Ugh!"

The vehemence of that chorus made Warrick pull his head back. "Come on guys," he said. "What's the problem? Okay, Greg. You never had a chance with Sara. You know that. Don't pout. Cath, you were never interested in Griss. Why do you care who he ends up with? Chill."

"Hey," Greg said, lifting his head up indignantly. "Sara and me were real close lately. We were clicking. I was going to ask her out."

"You could ask all you want, it doesn't change what the answer was going to be," Catherine snarked, draining the last of her soda. "I need a real drink."

"Oh, yeah, that'll really help your mood," Greg muttered under his breath.

"Guys," Nick said excitedly, popping his head into the break room. "Judy just said they pulled into the parking lot."

"Smooth, guys. Real smooth." Warrick stayed in his chair, shaking his head as the others tumbled out of their chairs and hurried to the reception area. Initially, he thought it would be fun to tease Sara and Grissom about their mountain adventure, knowing that neither of them would find such a place enjoyable. But the reactions of their other coworkers confused him. They seemed to think something really was going on between the two of them.

Standing up, he strolled to join the others. If something was going on, then those two didn't need any ribbing; they'd both be too uncomfortable to openly admit their relationship. It'd taken them too long to get together. Being grilled about it by the entire lab could be disastrous. He found Nick first, chuckling openly in the reception area. Quickly explaining the situation to him, they forcefully carried Greg to fingerprinting where Jacqui could keep him under wraps.

When they returned, Catherine was out of sight.

Nick and Warrick exchanged a worried look when they spotted her marching across the parking lot to the Denali.

"Should we stop her?" Nick asked quietly.

"Do you want to go back on sick leave?"

"No."

"They're on their own," Warrick said with a sigh.

Turning around in the driver's seat, Sara smiled at her slowly awakening passenger. "How do you feel?" she asked softly, rubbing her hand lovingly over his.

"Like I have a bad cold, spent the night on a bad mattress and then tried to sleep on a ride over a bumpy road," Grissom answered in between deep yawns. Sitting up straight, he stretched and worked out tight muscles.

"You're not …worried?"

"About what? We're going to be teased. There's no escaping that. You show them the photos; that'll convince them nothing happened that you don't want them to know about. I'll glare at them when they try to joke with me. That'll take care of everything."

"I hope you're right. We're about to get mobbed."

"What?" Grissom snapped open his eyes and stared as Catherine stormed towards them.

"Warrick. He knew what type of motel that was. He told all the others."

"Oh, she's probably upset that I never returned her calls. She doesn't like working with bugs."

"No one does, besides you," Sara told him, smiling at his startled look. "Sorry."

"Remember our plan," he said, ignoring her bug comment and starting to climb out of the SUV.

"Right." Sara's eyes opened wide when she closed the door. There in the side view mirror was the evidence of what really happened at the motel.

"Cough!" she said in an urgent stage whisper.

"Why?"

"Just do it! Hey, Cath! You better stay back. Grissom's still contagious. I'm going to drop him home, and I'll be in later."

"Right," Catherine said sarcastically. "And you're already infected. So, what condition causes whisker burns?"

Grissom jerked his eyes around; in the early morning light, the marks on Sara's neck stood out plainly. He had no idea he'd branded her so much. There was no denying what happened. Before he could react, a real coughing spell erupted, causing him to bend over.

"Gil?"

"I told you he was sick," Sara said shortly.

"Right. He needs to be at home and in bed. Resting," she added pointedly.

"I'm driving him there, and then I'm going to get him to call a doctor."

Catherine barked out a short laugh. "You'll have to do that. He goes to Dr. Krauss in Henderson."

Grissom, trying to catch his breath from his coughing spell, watched as the two women put aside their disagreement long enough to herd him into Sara's car. The parting look from Catherine made it clear he hadn't heard the last of this, and he closed his eyes painfully as they headed to his townhouse.

Driving silently, she darted her eyes to him nervously. She hoped Catherine would be discreet, but mentally wondered if she knew the meaning of the word. Grissom was her friend; no matter their own disagreements, Sara hoped she wouldn't betray him.

When she parked in front of his home, she let out a silent sigh. He hadn't said a thing since they left the lab. Sara stared off into space, wondering which one of them would be the first to pretend this never happened.


	14. Chapter 14

**Bear Witness**  
**Summary:** And now for the rest of the story… Unbound Improv Challenge entry – the first and last lines provided, with 1,000 words to fill in the rest.  
**A/N: **Interest in this story has been dropping off, so I'm going to wrap it up this chapter. Thanks to Laura Katharine for the emergency beta.  
**Disclaimer:** The real owners of CSI disavow any knowledge or approval of this story.

* * *

**Chapter 14 **

"I see you've been exploring."

Sara withdrew her head from underneath the bathroom vanity, smiling guiltily as she did so. That was the first time Grissom had spoken to her since they arrived at his home, and there was no mistaking his irritated tone. She understood that he valued his privacy – a trait she shared – and things were already tense enough since their encounter with Catherine.

"Hey. Yeah. You're about out of tissues," she explained, holding up the box as proof. "Do you have any more?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay. Did you get a hold of the doctor?"

"Yes. He had a cancellation, so I can spend all afternoon sitting in his waiting room."

A coughing spell cut off anything else he was about to petulantly say. Unlike the times in the motel, this was a deep, painful sounding cough. Sara frowned as she stood up and moved to his side. This was more than a cold; he was really sick, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

"You're phlegmish," she noted.

Grissom cocked his head in thought, rubbing his temple wearily. "No, I think we're Danish on my mother's side."

"Not Flemish," Sara said with a sigh. "Phlegm. You're coughing a lot of it up. You…"

"Relax. It was a joke."

"Oh."

They stood together in the bathroom for a few moments, neither of them talking and both avoiding looking at the other. When Grissom tried to cover another cough, Sara rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. There was plenty of time for awkward silences later; he needed to take care of himself.

"You get into bed. I'll get you something to drink. Do you have any juice?"

"Actually, no."

"What about soup?"

"No."

Sara detoured to his living room to grab her purse, pulling a notepad and pen from within it. "Tissues, juice, soup. Do you want to tell me what else you need, or do I have to wait until you're asleep to go through your medicine cabinet and fridge?" she asked with a nervous grin.

"You don't have to pick anything up. I can get whatever I need on the way home from the doctor's office."

"That's not until this afternoon. You should have stuff now," she said, softening her voice as she sat on the couch. "And I don't mind doing this for you."

Grissom sat on the other end of the couch, leaning his head against the back of the seat and letting out a wheezy grunt. He stared at the ceiling for the long time, and Sara shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to let out a bitter laugh; the irony that their stint in a tacky motel room had been too good to be true wasn't lost on her.

Standing up, she went to his kitchen and quietly began taking an inventory. She needed to be doing something. The silence was too oppressive. When she felt him moving behind her, she tried not to tense.

"Anything else you need from the grocery store? I can go to the one around the corner and be back in a few minutes. Then you can go to bed and get some sleep before your appointment," she said rapidly.

"Go to the MegaMart instead."

Sara frowned as he turned around to retrieve his jacket. At this time of day, the crowds would already have shown up at the MegaMart, making the trip to the crowded super store unbearable. Still, if it would make him more at ease, it was a small price to pay.

"Don't worry about the money," she said, tilting her head in confusion when he didn't pull out his wallet but his key chain. Her expression became baffled after he put two of the keys in the palm of her hand.

"Get copies of those made."

"Uh, okay."

Grissom gave her a guarded look and handed her some cash. "This is for you. For what you did for me at the motel. Not the money," he added quickly when her eyes narrowed. "The keys."

"What?"

"They're to the townhouse."

"What?" she repeated.

Grissom dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what to say to convince you that I am serious, and that I'm not going to change my mind about our becoming … involved. I can only show you. I want you to have your own set of keys to my home. You are welcomed here," he said, looking up to emphasis the last words.

Sara's jaw dropped as she moved her eyes to the keys and back to his face repeatedly. Giving her head a shake, she watched him closely. "What about work?"

"We'll figure something out."

"Catherine…"

"Is pissed that I did something that she didn't have advance warning about or didn't figure out on her own," Grissom said with a gentle smile. "Don't worry about it. I'll talk to her. It's nothing a quart of screwdrivers can't smooth over."

"You're sure?" Sara asked softly.

"Very."

Gradually, they stepped closer, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. They leaned against each other until another round of coughing started. Sara half-pushed him out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

"Get in bed. And you better be there when I get back," she said forcefully. "I'm serious."

"So am I."

With a bashful grin, Sara left to pick up his supplies. She was still worried as she fought her way through the crowds at MegaMart. He was upset; she knew it. Things were going to be touchy as they worked this out. But he had given her keys to his home. That was a big step for him. He was set in his ways, but he was making an effort for her.

Sighing, she looked into the full cart. In addition to the new keys and other items on her list, she'd added a case of bottled water, assorted flavors of powdered drink mix, fresh fruit and snacks, lozenges for his scratchy throat and a bottle of cough syrup. More than enough to irk him.

Grissom wouldn't be happy. He didn't like anyone making a fuss over him, and he'd even been hesitant to let her pick up tissues. Her shopping expedition would definitely push her luck, but he needed everything in the cart.

She was heading towards the checkout line when her eyes caught the display at the end of the last row of the pharmacy section. Automatically, she walked to the selection of latex protection, feeling oddly apprehensive.

Her eyes dropped to all the items in her full shopping cart. She'd already gotten too much, at least by Grissom's standards.

But he did say he was serious.

She looked again at all her purchases. Everything was a necessary item. A broad smile formed as she reached for a box. Surely one more couldn't hurt.

**The End **


End file.
